Challenge
by Light-and-Smoke
Summary: What if Arthur was not always such a gentleman? What if Ariadne was even more stubborn and challenging? What if neither of them wanted to face the chemistry between them? A glimpse of the darker side to Arthur and Ariadne.
1. Second Job

As you all know, I'm not Christopher Nolan in disguise, and Inception does not belong to me.

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><p>The team were in England, devising a plan to extract information from Alfonzetti, one of the richest men in Britain. They had been hired by none other than Interpol, to see if they could trace the origins of his money, since rumors had circulated that it was from child slavery or drug trafficking. They had hired a new warehouse that already contained most of the furniture they already needed. Ariadne was delighted to see couches in lieu of lawn chairs, a kitchenette and an old punching bag. It was far more lived in and had life in it. Each member claimed an area and they got to work.<p>

Ariadne still turned to Arthur for advice or final decisions on her work. It was an old habit that puzzled and annoyed her. Of course, he was also the team leader since Cobb had left. But Ariadne didn't want to rely on him, especially since they had never come to terms with what had happened on the second level of the Fischer job. She had had enough of games and hot and cold and being treated like she meant nothing. She was going to challenge him. She was going to teach him a lesson.

Ariadne came in early one morning, coffee in hand, only to realize that she was not alone. Arthur's coat was draped across the back of his chair. A familiar dull thudding reverberated through the place. Ariadne put her things down and went to investigate. She was astonished by what she found.

Arthur was training, taking a turn on the punching bag around the corner. He had clearly planned ahead, since for the first time in Ariadne's memory, he was wearing sweatpants and a wife beater. His hands and feet were bare, no gloves. Ariadne watched him work the punch bag effortlessly, his lean form all wired, the new muscles uncovered by his work out clothes. And the biceps, lord, the biceps.

Arthur stopped his reps and steadied the bag, breathing heavy. Ariadne decided to make her presence known.

"Nice style." She commented in the most casual manner she could muster.

He glanced over his shoulder and flashed his usual smirk. "Thanks."

"Didn't know you boxed."

"I did. I do."

Ariadne blinked in surprise, then grinned. "Verse me?"

He scoffed. "No."

His response fueled her fiery reaction. "Why not? Scared I'll beat you?"

"Ariadne, its not wise – "

"Oh come on, Arthur, you've read my file, you know I took martial arts for a while." She stripped off her jacket and flicked her hair behind her shoulders."Too chicken to verse me?"  
>She knew she was testing his nerves from the way his jaw was set. She decided to test his patience.<br>When he started to walk away, she caught hold of his wrist and pinned his arm behind his back.

"Come on, Arthur," She murmured in his ear. "You know better than to turn your back to your opponent."

Suddenly she found herself against the concrete wall, pinned either side by Arthurs arms. He took in the look on her face, torn between shock, amusement and something else. He had to fight the urge to lean in that inch and brutally catch her lips with his. Instead, he leaned in closer and breathed harshly into her ear.

"I've read your file, Ariadne, but have you read mine? I've done things that would make your hair curl. I've done things that would make you keep the lights on at night. I'm a _killer_, Ariadne." He felt her shiver underneath him. "So don't try and play with me. I might stop being a gentleman."

He paused there, teeth almost catching her ear lobe, still ragged breaths brushing hair from her face. Their bodies arched towards each other for a split second, like magnets, before Arthur wrenched himself away, storming off, leaving Ariadne dazed.

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><p><strong><em>Hello,<br>This is just an idea I had for a darker Arthur/Ariadne story...  
>Most likely will change the rating from T to M as the story progresses.<br>Now, this is the first time I've ever written anything like this, so comments and reviews are incredibly helpful and would make my year (even though its only February).  
>More to come, this is just a short teaser.<br>_****_Light-and-Smoke_**

**_ps. Help for what category I should place it under as this progresses? Or even a new name for the story?_**


	2. New York

Still don't own Inception.

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><p>Ariadne felt incredibly out of place. For once she looked immaculate and pristine, wearing a low-cut blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt with heels. But that wasn't what she was very uncomfortable about. She was in one of the most famous restaurants in New York, on a stake out…with Arthur.<p>

The Point Man didn't look frazzled at all. He causally glanced at the menu, at least with the modern surroundings. Ariadne played with her fingers before drumming them lightly on the table, only stopping when Arthur shot a weary look her way.

"Why am I here?" She wondered aloud for the umpteenth time.

"Floor plans and photos aren't enough. You need to get a feel for the restaurant in the first layer."

"But if I really needed that, I could have just come alone."

"This allows me to study the mark in a different environment, as well as giving me the potential to casually find out information from those around him."

"Then why isn't Eames here analyzing with us?"

"He's too distracted."

Ariadne raised an eyebrow, and Arthur coughed.

"Chatting up the marks daughter."

"Charming."

Silence followed before Ariadne found her argument again.

"But we could have gone on a different day with Eames."

"Too suspicious if he comes in while he's been associated with her."

"Or you and I could have come in individually on different days."

"Safety in numbers."

"Is this a date, Arthur?"

He met her gaze levelly.

"Of course not. Strictly business."

"Naturally." She nodded, playing her poker face as well as he did.

They sat in silence till the waiter arrived, and Ariadne let Arthur order the wine for the two of them without a word.

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><p><strong><em>Yet another teaser. Just bear with me.<br>Review if you like it, or if you don't._**

**_Light-and-Smoke_**


	3. Paris: Attack

Shock horror! I dont own Inception, I'm just using some crazy imagination and incredible ideas from Christopher Nolan for non-profit.

Swear Warning!

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><p>Ariadne left the warehouse at six, feeling content with her work. It was only her third extraction job, and she was still able to keep with the team, despite the years of work and life between them. Eames had been working in the field for almost a decade, much to his chagrin, and even with his youthful ways, was almost thirty. His family had the money to send him to some of the top psychology colleges in England, if not the world, so intellectually he could read people like children's books. Arthur was the complete opposite. Ariadne knew nothing about him. At all. The only thing she had managed to wrestle out of him was that he had been working in the field for seven years. So while she was still nowhere near as experienced as the men, she was proud of her ability to pick up ideas quickly and do her job fast.<p>

As Ariadne walked along the pathway home by the railroad and the trees, she thought life was fair. She didn't think that for very long. A gun was swiftly pressed against her spine, and she froze.

"Don't move, don't speak, don't even draw breath." A harsh voice muttered in her ear.

Another man stepped before her, narrowing his eyes and smiling.

"Yes. Ariadne Brooks."

"Who wants to know?"

The gun dug further into her back, and she imagined the awful sensation of the pain she would feel if the man pulled the trigger.

"Hibbert, that's who." The man before her growled, before checking his watch.

"Its time." He nodded to Ariadne's attacker, before flicking his eyes back to hers.

"Nothing personal. Just a message to your friends."

Ariadne barely had time to register what was happening before the gun-man tucked an arm around her and shoved her down the hill.

She landed in a heap at the bottom. She both felt and heard a dull crack as something in her left shoulder fell out of place, and she reluctantly picked herself up. Wooden planks were beneath her hands. She made herself try and focus, sucking air into her sore lungs, and looked up. A train. Of course. She didn't even register the irony of the deathly situation before it reached her.

Or very nearly did.

A force crashed into her from a side she wasn't expecting, tucking her form into their protective body as they rolled further down the hill into the grass and native fauna. She landed stomach down in the grass, covered by her rescuer. Who, despite the whistle of the train speeding past, she could still hear swearing.

"-ing Christ, Ariande, what the hell were you doing?"

Arthur. Of course. Ariadne slumped further into the ground, trying not to enjoy the physicality of the scenario and be bothered by the verbal.

"Were you planning on waiting for someone to realize there was a danger?"

"Yes, you know, because I just _love_ being the fucking damsel in distress."

"I didn't ask for a damsel, I employed an architect. One who is _alive._"

"Terribly sorry I didn't get the memo. Why don't you just start interviewing some more architects next time I'm about to become a train pancake and just let me die?"

Ariadne was happy Arthur had been around to help, but she wished it had been Eames. At least he would have given a damn about her feelings. She glowered at Arthur, realizing that neither of them had moved.

"Are you going to let me up, or are we just going to lie pressed in the dirt all day?"

Rather than let her overwhelm him, Arthur narrowed his eyes and caged her with his forearms either side of her head for a beat before rolling off her.

"Why didn't you do anything to help yourself?" Arthur questioned, flexing his arms after the fall.

Ariadne refused to give in to watching how his muscles moved through his shirt, rolling over to lie on her back.

"Because I just love getting hurt."

His icy glare only egged her on.

"No, I just was waiting for a savior, a knight in shining amour."

They locked eyes, and she clenched her jaw.

"I didn't have time to do anything, okay? I've never been attacked before, and I hated feeling that fucking helpless." She choked back traitor tears budding in her eyes, and swatted at them with her right palm.

Arthur was silent. Then sighed. "Just be careful next time, alright? You have to be alert." His voice was softer now, and she realized – he had been worried. She looked up towards him where he sat, framed by the dimming sky, and noticed…

"You're bleeding."

"Hmm?"

"Your arm. You're bleeding."

He glanced down at the flecks of red gathering in patterns on his forearm. "Oh." He began to roll up his sleeve, and she watched as a criss cross of varying red scratches appeared.

"The gravel. I'm sorry."

"I've had worse."

Ariadne reached up to help and rolled onto her shoulder, gasping. "Ow!"

At once, Arthur was there, supporting her side gently. "Left shoulder?"

She nodded, biting her lip to the point of pain.

"C'mon, we'll go treat it."

They stood, Ariadne trying as hard as possible to not accept Arthur's help.

"Where did the men go?"

"They're gone."

She gave him a questioning stare.

"They were going to leave a message, and so I had to return the favour."

...

He didn't want to, but she insisted on visiting a hospital, so he obliged.

"They ask questions, Ariadne, a lot of questions."

"I don't care, I want this done properly."

"I could easily do it myself."

She detected the pout in his voice with amusement. "And I can also do this myself. You can continue on your way."

"Doubtful."

Ariadne gritted her teeth and didn't rise to the taunt. "Look, I appreciate the gesture, Arthur, I really do. But you can go home now. Don't waste your time."

Arthur looked down at her, and she read his eyes for a few moments – cynicism, hurt, sincerity – before he was the blank impassive Point Man once more.

"I'm not staying here to be a gentleman. If your story isn't set, you could incriminate us. Besides, you might get attacked again."

Ariadne's fuse lit fast. "God, I'm not the baby of the group. You're just so full of shi-"

"Puis-je vous aider ?" The nurse offered, calling them to the front desk.

Ariadne stepped forward, trying to get back into a calmer mood.

"Salut. J'essayais de peindre mon vestibule quand je suis tombé sur mon épaule. Puis-je voir un docteur?" Ariadne fabricated a story, allowing her stress to show for added emphasis.

"Bien sûr." The nurse soothed, glancing towards Arthur.

"Et vous, monsieur?"

"Je suis elle petit ami." I am her boyfriend.

Ariadne kept a straight face, but dug her heel hard into Arthurs foot under the counter.

"Oui, d'accord."

Ariadne took the required forms, thanked her, and sat down a reasonable distance away from the other patrons.

Arthur sat down next to her. "Here, you cant fill these out with one bad arm."

She let him take the forms while still bestowing him with an incredulous stare. "What was that?"

"A conversation with a nice nurse."

"Where you lied."

"If I had told them I was a colleague or even a friend, its doubtful that I would have been allowed to have any say in the next few hours here."

All Ariadne heard was 'even a friend', echoing hurtfully in her ears.

"Control freak." She shot back. She watched the muscles contract in his jaw as he kept his temper in check.

"A necessary precaution."

"One which I'm sure you do with all of your colleagues. Eames, perhaps?"

"Eames doesn't visit hospitals, and even if he did, I know I wouldn't need to go with him to keep a credible story."

He may as well have slapped her with a big sign reading 'untrustworthy'. It would have hurt less. She hadn't made any progress with the team. She wasn't anything.

Arthur immediately regretted the words as soon as he voiced them. He knew no one should have been introduced to the dream world like Ariadne had, and that she had made far better progress than any of them had when they had first started off. Cobb was a better mentor, he would have never acted like this.

"I didn't mean – " He began softly, and she tossed her head blindly away from him, biting her lip. The damage was done.

Ariadne exhaled in a whoosh, facing forward with a blank stony face that she had learnt from him.

"I'm going to be seeing the doctor in a few minutes." She murmured as a faint reminder for Arthur to do something useful like fill out the form.

"Right. Last name?"

"Come on," She scoffed. "As if we're really going to pretend like you haven't researched all my background information from where I went to school to who my grandma used to take the family dry cleaning to."

Arthur said nothing, but let the corner of his mouth raise in a smirk.

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><p><strong><em>First part. Next part up later.<br>Hope you enjoy :)_**

**_Light-and-Smoke _**


	4. Paris: Afterward

I dont own Inception, but you knew that already.

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><p>"I cant believe the hospital bought that story." Arthur admitted as he waked Ariadne, who was now sporting a lovely hospital bandage, home. "You falling off a chair while painting your hallway – and dislocating your shoulder to boot."<p>

Ariadne tipped her head in half a shrug, not wanting to move her left shoulder.

"Its France. People aren't as nosy as they are in America. I'm just amused that the doctor also checked that it wasn't a domestic lovers quarrel."

"Its France." Arthur quipped back at her.

"Touche. But can you really blame him?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You look like a mobster."

Arthur had to admit it wasn't the first time someone had commented on his danger outlook. "It comes with the job. Besides, Ariadne, if you haven't noticed, we're not good men."

Ariadne thought about the emotionless ways the men dealt with horrendous affairs, in particular the attack earlier, and suppressed a shiver. "You're good men. You just lead lives that I'm sure the police would love to get a hold of you for."

Arthur smirked, and Ariadne had a feeling it was more self-satisfaction than humour.

They stopped by the stairs leading up to a green apartment door. Ariadne looked at Arthur, noting his expression. She waited a beat.

"You can go home. I'm not inviting you in."

"I wasn't waiting for that."

"Then what?" She snipped, starting up the stairs and leaving Arthur behind.

"I just wanted to watch you try and open your door by yourself. I know the door trick. You have to turn the keys and the door handle at the same time."

Ariadne gritted her teeth, refusing to let him win. "How do you know the door trick?"

Arthur raised his shoulders in a shrug. "Point Man."

"Stalker." She corrected, before turning to her door. She regretted placing her keys in the left back pocket of her jeans, believing that she couldn't get pick pocketed while wearing her long pea coat. The theory was correct, she just hadn't assumed she would be stuck like this.

Ariadne tried twisting her arm behind her back to reach them, but the angles were just all wrong. She still struggled in vain.

A low voice behind her made her jolt.

"I could just help you."

"Thanks but no thanks." She sweetly grimaced.

"Fine." Arthur murmured, and Ariadne made one last attempt before admitting defeat.

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"Go for it." She muttered.

"Pardon?" Arthur was just going to force it out of her anyway, so she gave up.

"Can you _please _get my keys for me?"

"Of course." Arthur appeared by her left shoulder and waited for her to flick her coat back before moving it. Though he deftly fished the keys out with as little contact as possible, Ariadne still felt the burning imprint of where his fingers had pressed against her hip.

Arthur dropped the keys into her waiting palm and stepped back from her personal space, becoming professional once more.

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

He waited while she jimmied the keys into the lock, twisting while tying to turn the handle with her knee. She didn't get very far, and with her shoulder out of whack she began to over balance.

Arthur didn't wait to be asked, simply moving forward to steady her. He wordlessly allowed her to turn the key while he turned the door handle, and the door naturally opened.

Ariadne glanced up at him where he was pressed against her, and noticed the Point Mans aftershave for the first time – a sharp, tangy scent.

Arthur looked down at her, eyes dark, before Ariadne broke away to step inside. She lowered her eyes before looking up at him again, and the silence crackled between them.

"You can go now." She brought them back with the short sentence, and Arthur nodded with a slight smirk. He turned to leave, and Ariadne couldn't help but loiter at the door to watch him leave.

Arthur had only progressed halfway down the stairs before half turning back with that smirk still in place.

"Good luck doing everything else today with no left arm and no help."

Ariadne bit her lip and cursed. Arthur remained still, watching her dilemma once more.

She glared at him. "And where would I get some 'help'?"

"Don't look at me."

Her gaze narrowed. "You're the one who got me in this mess."

His smirk disappeared, then he turned back to face her. "Fine. You need help."

"That doesn't mean I'm some damsel in distress." She growled, standing steadfast at the door.

"You need help." Was all he repeated, and she couldn't decipher whether it was condescending or merely stating the truth, but she did need help so she stepped aside and let him in anyway.

"Its messy, so deal with it." She said, knowing that Arthur probably liked sleek, modern sophistication and hopefully couldn't stand domestic mess. She hoped. Just as a one-up for her.

Ariadne turned on the kettle, setting up coffee for them both despite her shoulder just to do something independently. Arthur didn't let her.

"Don't be silly. Sit down."

"No." She shot back.

He stared at her before sitting down at the bench to watch her, making it clear that he was ready to see her fail. She refused to let that happen. Instead, she let him stew in the silence while she fixed the coffee and set down the two steaming mugs. Frowning, se also set down two of the medicated pills from the hospital. She hadn't expected it to be so gnawingly painful.

Arthur was too stunned by the coffee. She looked over to him.

"Black coffee with one sugar and the faintest splash of milk? Of course I know your coffee, Arthur." She felt slightly flustered over the look he gave her, but continued on all the same. "We've been working on the same team for a year, give me some credit."

She downed the pills as a distraction, waiting for them to kick in as the pain began to grow. Arthur let her sit in the silence, watching her face become tighter and finally relaxing as her medication kicked in.

"Better?"

"Mmm." She sighed, eyes fluttering slightly. "I never knew a real injury would be so painful."

"You've never been injured before?"

Ariadne unexpectedly smiled, the action lighting up her face. "What, the great Point Man doesn't know my medical history?"

Arthur stared for a second before snapping back into reality. "I didn't really do a big background search on you. I left things like your personal details, your age, your medical history, your family. Just some basic information to know you weren't a total lunatic."

"Gee, thanks." She rolled her eyes.

"You passed, that's thanks enough." Arthur rested his arms against the counter for a second before standing up. "Damn."

"What?"

"Forgot about the cuts." Arthur rolled up his sleeve to reveal the ugly scratches that were now accompanied by dried blood stains.

"Go over to the sink. I'll grab a towel." Ariadne hopped off towards one of the cupboards while Arthur headed over to the sink.

"Here." Ariadne stuck the towel under the tap for a few seconds before raising Arthurs arm with her one cloth carrying hand and cleaning it herself.

"I can do that."

"Arthur, either way we do this, its one hand taking care of the wound. And since its _your_ wound, and _I_ can see it clearly, then _I'll_ was it. Its only fair."

Arthur had to admit that she was taking more care and her actions were softer than if he was cleaning the injury himself, and she seemed to forget her own injury by taking care of his, so he let her.

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><p><strong><em>It may seem a bit sweeter now, but it'll dive down into a bit more fierceness soon enough.<br>So what do you all think? Please read and review, its my first adventure into this kind of area, and I'm really apprehensive about how the 'M' bits are going to turn out..._**

**_Light-and-Smoke _**


	5. Paris: Aftermath

Inception isn't mine.

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><p>Arthur woke up the next morning stiff and sore with the petite Architects head resting against his shoulder. Not only that, but he found his arms cradled around her. He struggled with his mind before recalling. Some point after they had fallen asleep on the couch, Ariadne had tossed in her dreams, and Arthur had instinctively turned and settled so the two were in a more comfortable position, lying on the couch. He couldn't believe his own unprofessionalism. Not to mention how at ease he was with her like this. With skills only possessed by people trained in stealthy physical movement, Arthur carefully rolled Ariadne aside to continue sleeping, covered her with a throw-over from the back of the couch and did the most logical thing – left.<p>

Months later meeting up for another job, Ariadne was icier. She socialized well with Eames and his recruited extractor, Tom, but was professionally cold towards Arthur. He tried not to notice. His job was his life, not the people around him. Even so, he couldn't help but notice little things. He was so aware of her movements, her flirty, meaningless banter with Eames, her quiet lunches with Tom. And merely a few sentences to him daily. He wasn't bothered. Not in the slightest. Definitely not one bit. Of course.

He had left. With no contact ever since she had dislocated her shoulder, since they had called off the mission to go into hiding after her attack. No note was left, nothing. All of her news had been delivered through Eames. She knew she shouldn't have really given a damn, but she did. And so she let him know without words that his actions were not okay. Instead, she focused on her team members. Eames was so loveable, and their playful banter brightened her day. Tom, the new addition for just this job due to the difficulty, had several years in the field. He was the most casual of them all, dressing down with jeans and shirts. Paired with his scruffy, curly blonde hair, he seemed very unthreatening. It wasn't till she began to get to know him over lunch that he revealed he was a tenth degree black belt and had majored in science. That was what she enjoyed about her job, finding out the histories of her colleagues. But what she enjoyed the most was what she wouldn't even admit to herself – the way she affected Arthur. She could read people well, and she knew that he noticed her actions, and took delight in that attention.

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><p><strong><em>A break from now, to add more. Any suggestions?<br>Please read and review, it makes my day. :)_**

**_Thanks, Light-and-Smoke _**


	6. Somewhere East of Paris

Yet another fanfiction that is created by someone who does not own Inception. Brought to you from the creations of my mind.

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><p>"I don't like this."<p>

"Just shut up and let me get on with it."

"Go on and let her, Arthur, it'll be over soon."

They were all in a small shed somewhere east of Paris, and their transformations were very nearly complete. They had been hiding there for three days, and Eames already had an impressive beard. Ariadne had buzz cut his hair to compensate. Arthur was the next victim, and rather reluctant. He had allowed a layer of what Eames dubbed as 'designer stubble' to grow on his face, and Ariadne was just trimming his hair shorter.

"How do you even know how to do this?"

"My cousin is a hairdresser, and we've shown each other a thing or two of our trade." Ariadne noticed the uneasy glances between the men, and she rolled her eyes. "Only the legal stuff, like proper architecture and tips on houses. Really, guys. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Eames fussed around for a bit before heading outside. Ariadne trimmed a few more locks before moving to crouch before Arthur, her knees just resting against his. She placed a hand on either side of his face, and he blinked.

"What are you doing?"

"Relax, I'm just checking to see if the sides are even."

Ariadne ran her fingers through his hair, and Arthur could only continue to gaze at her face, so close he could see the sharp shape of her lips and the gold depth of her eyes as they flicked between both of her hands before noticing his attention. They hadn't been this close to each other since the Fischer job and the second level. They hadn't really talked about what happened there, what happened after that, and what happened after that. They had merely continued their odd whatever-ship as best as they could.

Now there they were, inches apart, and some instinct made them draw closer slowly, as if they both knew there was something fragile in the air between them. Arthur was sure that if he was able to concentrate on something other than her lips or eyes, he could have counted the light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones.

Ariadne paused when they were nearly brushing each others faces, as if some invisible barrier prevented her from getting closer. Instead, she closed her eyes. Arthur leaned in close enough for his mouth to just lightly brush against hers – right before they heard Eames fumbling with the door handle.

Arthur watched as Ariadne's eyes shot open and she snapped backwards like she was on a bungee cord. She hurried over to the table as Eames walked in, eyeing the two. Ariadne was slightly flustered, and Arthur seemed lost in thought. Eames drew in a breath to say something, then thought the better of it and shrugged off his questions. He'd come back to them later.

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><p><strong><em>Teaser. I'm hopping back on course, it should be travelling soon.<br>This is one of the more fluffy ones, but trust me, its going to get a lot more twisted.  
>Warning, the next chapter will be where I change the rating to 'M'. Get excited? Tell your friends?<br>The question marks really make it work :P  
>See you soon,<em>**

**_Light-and-Smoke _**


	7. Somewhere Passive in Paris

I don't own Inception.

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><p>Ariadne was only dozing off when she heard the front door open and urgent footsteps move towards her bedroom. She grabbed the nearest weapon – her lamp – and prepared herself for attack when Arthur appeared. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.<p>

"Jesus Christ, Arthur, what the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"You have to leave. Now."

"What, you think this is some sort of shared apartment and you're bringing a girl over?"

"They're coming."

Ariadne set her jaw and collected a few essentials to add to her emergency bag. Arthur couldn't help but notice the fact that she was only wearing a slip to bed. Ariadne noticed his attention and cleared her throat.

"And I need to leave because?"

"Because unlike the people who almost questioned you about the Malaysia job, these people are ruthless, without morals or limits."

"So they'll torture me."

The words affected Arthur more than they affected her.

"Yes." He said through clenched teeth. Ariadne filed the reaction away for analysis another time, throwing on an overcoat and boots.

"Lets go then."

Arthur moved for the window rather than the door. "We shouldn't run the risk of colliding with them on the stairs. Its happened before. Not pretty."

Ariadne gracelessly picked her way down the fire escape outside, mindful of the fact that it was two in the morning and she hadn't checked whether this was a dream yet. A sudden lurch as the last set of stairs dropped to the ground while they stood on them made her assume that it was reality, since that kind of movement would have usually woken them up in a dream. She didn't miss the fact that Arthur had instantly held her waist and pressed her form into his torso to prevent her from falling. Rather than be thankful, she felt outraged. She could take care of herself. She shot a look over her shoulder to Arthur, and waited till they had caught the waiting car several blocks away before they got out to find a different route to the airport. The more methods, the different ways all jumbled, was Arthur's best method of escape.

As soon as the car left them in the tiny alleyway, Ariadne let it fly.

"What the hell, Arthur! I can take care of myself."

"Like you did with the Wollen case?"

"Shut it, Arthur." Ariadne pointed a finger at him menacingly, still painfully aware of the feeling in the dream as she was shot in the stomach. "I am not asking for help. So don't help me."

"Fine." He shot back at her, his stance unmoving.

She still didn't reign in her frustration, gazing up at him with flames in her eyes.

"That means leaving me alone."

"I will."

She hated his structure, moving closer in anger.

"That means stop being such an arrogant knight in fucking armor."

"I never was."

His denial was her catalyst.

"Yes you are." She punched her last word with a hit to his bicep, and his stance didn't change.

"I. Can. Take. Care. Of. Myself." She continued, wanting to change him in some way, to alter him, to affect him for a change. Just to see a change in the story granite he was made of.

"So. Stop. Being. So. Damn. Passive."

At that Arthur stopped her blows by catching both her wrists in his hands like cuffs, holding them by her sides. It didn't stop her words.

"You're always so passive, Arthur. Why don't you feel anything? Why don't you show anything? Why don't you do something?"

Arthur caught her mouth with his, hard. There was nothing soft or tender in his actions, nothing like the Fischer job or the brush of a kiss in hiding. Arthur was fierce and demanding. And Ariadne felt herself responding with her own. They pulled back for air, and glared at each other.

"That non-passive enough?" He grated.

"No." She stubbornly challenged.

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he kissed her again; eyes open, challenging her instead. Ariadne couldn't help but close hers and be swept up. That is, till he bit her lip. Her nails dug into his palms in retaliation, and they drew back again.

"Passive." She hissed

"Stubborn." He shot back.

She kissed him this time, fighting for dominance. Just to prove his point, he hoisted her so she was trapped between the alley wall and him, leaving her to wind her limbs around him for some sort of grip. She dragged her nails across his back, he gripped her thighs tightly, she pulled his hair.

But then Arthur changed the game when he softly entwined a hand in her hair and moved to a yearning kiss. It made her change, made her toes curl and a sound escape from the back of her throat. It changed everything. Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck slightly, and he drew back with a sharp intake of breath. He looked at her, his eyes searching for something in the depths of her own. She noticed with a smirk that his eyes were dark with desire and want, pleased to finally get a rise from the blank Point Man. But in the midst of it all, she remembered herself. Who they were running from.

"We'd better get to the airport."

Arthur nodded his agreeance. He carefully set the Architect back down on the ground where she brushed herself down before they continued on, wordlessly. Words could be afforded later.

But they weren't. They were never spoken aloud, merely thought and questioned in their own separate heads.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Just a taste, more to come.<br>Review so I can cater to your taste?_**

**_Thanks,  
>Light-and-Smoke <em>**


	8. Wherever I Rome

I don't own Inception.

* * *

><p>Arthur walked into the entrance hall of the Grand Hotel in Rome, looking sharp in his three-piece suit. He tightened his cuff links one last time, took a breath, and strode into the ballroom, where a large group of the famous and wealthy citizens of the world mingled.<p>

"Everyone in position?" He murmured quietly.

"Ready," Ariadne breathed, draining her flute of champagne.

"Lets go," Eames stated, clasping Ariadne's hand, kissing it, and pulling her into a waltz.

Arthur watched their progress across the floor till they jostled a couple.

"Oh, je suis désolé très, madame, monsieur." Eames cried in fluent French before reverting to a French accent when he saw they were English. "My apologies. I apologize profoundly for, how you say, ruining your night."

"Certainly not, sir. Not a problem." The man replied in an English accent. He was young and handsome, with blonde hair and hazel eyes.

"Shall we do the custom in our country? Whenever one couple bumps another, they must swap partners."

The man eyed up Ariadne, seductive in a long slip of black silk, while his partner, a raven haired beauty, did the same to Eames. They smiled at each other, amused and pleased by the idea.

"Of course, sir. So long as you return my partner in one piece, I shall do the same for yours." At this, he winked at Ariadne, who smiled in response. Across the room, Arthurs fists clenched.

The blonde, who also happened to be the mark, took Ariadne up in his arms and began to dance again.

"So, may I know your name?"

"Marie. And yours?"

"Simon. Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, monsieur. You've already made my night more agreeable and pleasing."

Simon smiled. "How so?"

"Well, the man you swapped with, he is an excellent friend of mine, but I was not looking forward to an evening with him. I need, what's the English word, _excitement_."

"I'm certain I can provide that, mademoiselle." He smiled, eyes twinkling.

Ariadne smiled slyly in return, and leaned closer to his ear. "Please, call me, _Marie_."

Simon inhaled slightly, swept away by her intoxicating perfume. Ariadne looked up invitingly at him, playing on the knowledge they had gathered about this playboy heir who loved to play the role of knight in armor. She was reeling him in well.

And then suddenly Simon looked over his shoulder to a gentlemen who was interrupting where he was not welcome.

Arthur tapped Simon on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. "May I cut in?"

Ariadne shot him a glare. "I'm afraid that would be rude, monsieur."

The overall danger radiating from Arthurs mere stance made Simon back down. "It's only reasonable. Here is my fair partner, sir. Treat her well."

"Perhaps I'll see you later tonight, Simon." Ariadne called in her most sultry French voice.

Simon visibly swallowed. "Of course. How about I buy you a drink after this dance."

"_Bien sûr." _She smiled, all charm till she turned back to Arthur. "What in _hells name_ are you doing?"

He put up a good front for the public, taking her in his arms for the dance. Ariadne couldn't help but feel that for a moment he held her just right, the way she wanted, up against his lean body. But then she shut it out, remembering the plan. The plan that Arthur should have stuck to.

"Like I said, what are you doing?"

"Play nice." He murmured into her ear, the one that wasn't connected via a hidden earpiece to Eames. His hot breath hit her neck, sending a shiver through her.

"What do you want?" She hissed in his ear.

"You were far too much for the mark. Don't throw yourself at him." His harsh words contasted with the way he whispered it in her ear like a lovers secret.

She frowned. "Still doesn't explain why you cut in like a jealous boyfriend."

His body was rigid with anger against hers, and he pulled her infinitely closer.

"Don't screw up the job by seducing the mark in an inappropriate way."

"Don't screw up the job by failing to keep your emotions in check."

"You don't need to play so desperate with the mark."

She stepped on his foot, hard. He glared at her, and brought her body flush against his in a manner that was bordering on inappropriate. Ariadne sincerely hoped Simon wasn't watching, unless the entire operation was to go tits up. She tore herself from Arthurs hard embrace and, with one final searing glare, spun and stalked outside.

The air was cool against her rage. She yanked the ear piece from her ear , switching it off. She wasn't in the mood for Eames talk, or anymore words from Arthur. She strode along one of the many routes in the courtyard of the Grande, hoping to leave the party behind her.

She wasn't so lucky.

As she rested against the cool brick wall of the hotel, far away from the rest of the party-goers, Arthur suddenly pinned her there.

"What the hell was that? Your disappearance could have cost us the job."

"Oh, and your little stunt didn't?"

"I was trying to save you."

"From being with men who aren't you." She shot, frustrated at all their games and blaming.

"From being a liability." He returned, not backing down.

"As opposed to what, an emotionless robot who is married to his job?" Ariadne brought back the night he lost his control.

The impact of it was shown on Arthurs face for a moment before he closed the little space left between them. "So is this what you want? You want to see me out of control? You wont like what you'll find."

"Just try, I bet its exactly the same – a cold, heartless bastard." She scoffed, aiming to hurt.

Arthur wasn't going down without a fight. "As opposed to a college kid with no value."

"Jack ass!" She hissed, swinging her fists towards him.

He grabbed her wrists easily, pinning them behind her back and trapping her, attacking her mouth with his. She took his bruising kiss, meeting him with equal force. He bit her bottom lip harder than necessary, and she moaned into his mouth. His hips pressed hers into the wall, and her nails dug into his restrictive hands. His leg was in between hers, and he let go of one hand to hold the small of her back more firmly, burning her skin through the thin fabric. Her hand wound of its own accord around his neck, going under the collar of his shirt to touch his skin properly, the mere action bringing goosebumps. She could feel a very pleasing hardness there between them, and she wanted so desperately to just do it, for him to take her in the dark, in the open, on a job, against the stone wall. Her free hand travelled down his muscular chest to his belt, just brushing lightly against his erection, making him hiss into her neck. She paused for a moment there, on the precipice, before looking a thumb under the waistband of his pants.

The action set off a different reaction from him. He started to back away, bringing space and a rush of cold between their warm bodies.

Ariadne glared at him, lips rosy and bruised, her whole body heaving.

"Too scared?"

Arthurs face was stone again. "We've got a job."

Ariadne pulled at his wrist where they were still connected, sending his body crashing into hers and the wall. "We almost did have another 'job' to do." She quipped, hooking her leg around his to bring their hips together as before.

"This seem familiar? Been in this position before?"

His poker face was good.

She shook her head. "No, I don't suppose so. You'd need to give a damn to be there properly."

She pushed away from him and the wall and stormed back to the ballroom to do her task – seduce the mark.

"You've had the chance twice." She reminded him over her shoulder. "Don't think for minute you're lucky enough to even dream of having a third."

* * *

><p><strong><em>And now the harshness returns...sometimes I kinda like them better when they're fighting. Definitely when they're fighting like this :P<br>Anyway, first time doing something like this, so if you'd like to comment and give support, it would be really helpful and appreciated._**

**_Thanks,  
><em>****_Light-and-Smoke _**


	9. Eames Intervention

Eames could bloody smell the sexual tension between Arthur and Ariadne. They did everything with an innuendo implied between them, but Eames knew they weren't doing anything. And he had to change that, or their team wouldn't last more than a month.

So he decided to interfere the only way he knew how.

"Oi, Arthur," He unceremoniously flounced into Arthurs office space, casually shifting piles of sorted paperwork to sit on his desk.

Arthur closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose to calm himself. "Yes, Mr Eames?"

"Darling, are you shagging our Architect?" Eames knew they had, or at least had come close, and that he had hit the problem when Arthurs ears tinged pink at his words.

"What the hell, Eames? No, I am not."

"It was only a question. Do you intend to?"

"No, I don't." Eames knew he was lying from the way his cheek indented slightly – he was biting down on it.

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to shag her."

Arthurs jaw clenched, and Eames watched his anger rise with glee.

"Excuse me?"

"No need to excuse yourself, dear, you just said you weren't anything with her."

"You are not going to casually screw our Architect."

"You're right, I'm not. I have the decency to take her out to a club first."

Arthur stiffened, Eames guessed they hadn't gone through the 'decent' motions.

"You are not going to sleep with Ariadne."

Eames cocked an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"Because I will pummel your face in – if this jeopardizes the mission."

Eames noted the slight pause, yet it wasn't enough for him to be happy about.

"Sorry, mate, a guys gotta do what his other head tells him to." Eames grinned wolfishly before leaving Arthur to collect his thoughts.

* * *

><p>The Forger had the decency to wait a day to see if his words prompted any action from Arthur, but when nothing took place, he began phase two.<p>

"Ariadne, love, do you have any plans for tonight?"

The Architect looked up from her mess of models and glue. "Me? No, no plans."

"Good. You're joining me for dinner."

"Like a date?"

"Like a date." The Forger nodded, knowing she had picked up on his scheme. Her eyes flicked over to Arthur – studiously working and bluntly ignoring this exchange with far too stiff posture – and then back to Eames, giving him a swift once over. She grinned.

"Sounds good."

"Wonderful. How do you feel about leaving in about an hour?"

"Perfect. I can't wait."

"We could leave now if you're that eager." He grinned.

"Sure. It'll leave more time for…after dinner." She said humorously with a wink.

Eames flashed one back, thoroughly enjoying the Point Mans gritting teeth.

"Grab your coat, dear, I'll see you at the car."

Ariadne obliged, not even glancing at Arthur to say goodnight.

Eames cocked his head to make sure Ariadne was far enough away, and looked winningly at Arthur.

"And that's how it's done. Grow a pair and be quicker next time, Point Man."

Arthur scowled at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching ever so slightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * *

><p>Ariadne laughed, enjoying Eames' crude company.<p>

"But in all honesty, thank you for the night out. I had a much better time than I anticipated."

Eames placed a hand on his heart, feigning pain. "My dear, you wound me. How could I be anything but a good time always?"

"Of course, Eames," she soothed, smiling. "I just never thought that when you were teasing that you'd take me out – you'd actually take me out."

"Well the first was more effect than cause, but of course I would, Ari. You discredit yourself there. And the night's not over."

Ariadne raised her eyebrows. "Its not?"

"No. We're going clubbing."

Ariadne groaned. "Oh, come on, haven't we done enough?"

"Not until you're good and drunk, love. Makes the plan more effective."

"Well I doubt it will get a good raise from the Point Man, but I'm in."

Eames flashed her a look. "You really do discredit yourself, duckie."

* * *

><p>Ariadne remembered why she avoided clubs. The flashing lights, packed bodies and humidity was enough, but put together with deafening music and wolfish men, she found it easier to not deal with it all.<p>

But at least it was only one man tonight, and despite his Casanova ways, he was a friendly gentleman and body guard for the night. Not to mention a drinking buddy. Eames had a knack for getting things for free, often without having to resort to theft or forgery. Drinks kept coming their way, and Eames and Ariadne kept knocking them back.

Soon, Ariadne was suddenly in the mood for dancing. She pulled Eames to the floor, letting loose. It was easy for her to interact with the Forger, easy to forget stress and just dance with her friendly Englishman.

It wasn't till she felt a particular heated gaze that she remembered the cause of that stress.

"Yes, Arthur's here." Eames confirmed, his eyes crafty and sly. "Lets do this properly."

Eames' hands were on her waist, pulling her closer. She was familiar and comfortable with Eames, and mad at Arthur for everything, and wanted to teach him a lesson, to show him what he could have had.

Ariadne draped her arms around Eames neck, swaying in time to the music. He spun her out and back in, molding her back to his chest. She giggled as he bent his head towards her ear and neck, his breath tickling her skin. To an outsider, it would have looked like a sensual embrace, with his lips claiming her neck. In reality, Eames was whispering a plan of attack in her ear. She grinned at him in response, and he took her by the hand to lead her to the bar. They had a few more shots, becoming more boisterous and Ariadne began to lean against him. He helped her up with a smile and they beelined for the door.

"My feet hurt." Ariadne huffed as they walked down the road.

"You're just fishing for an excuse for me to carry you." Eames teased, swooping her up in his arms in the next minute.

"Hey! Put me down." Ariadne only half protested – enjoying not having to walk in her heels for the time being.

"As you wish, my dear." Eames slurred as he set her back down, where she promptly sat down on doorstep.

"Give me a moment," She muttered, blinking.

He laughed, only pausing when he noticed they weren't alone.

"Oh."

"Eames, Ariadne." Arthur greeted them, looking like he'd just stepped out of a noir film as he leant against the wall in his long overcoat.

"Hello, Arthur. Didn't you see enough back at the warehouse? Did you want to see me kiss her too?"

"Eames," Ariadne cajoled, knowing he'd had a little too much to think about sensitive things like feelings – even if the Point Man didn't possess them.

"I was just keeping an eye on you." Arthur advanced towards them, oblivious.

Eames scoffed. "More like keeping an eye on your girl. Relax, I haven't kissed her. Yet."

"Eames," Ariadne tried again, to no avail. She tried to keep her focus, failing miserably.

"Mr Eames, you're drunk. Go home now."

Eames still had some of his wits about him. "Not before I do this."

It all happened far too fast. Eames ducked his head towards Ariadne's lips, but before he reached the obvious end point, Arthurs fist collided with his jaw, sending the poor man reeling to the pavement.

As Eames lay there cussing and prodding his cheek, Arthur lifted Ariadne up in his arms. She only noticed when they were half a block away.

"What about Eames?"

"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

She felt Arthur's words rumble through his chest, and she hated how much she loved the feeling.

"Put me down."

"So you can return to your date?"

"No, you jealous, crazy jerk, so I can go home myself."

"No. We're almost at my apartment."

"You could have at least bought me dinner first." She scoffed, and he looked down at her. She glared back, framed and held tight in his arms, barely tousled by his smooth walk.

"Eames isn't the only one who's had too much to drink tonight. My place was closest, and someone needed to take care of you."

"Eames could have done a fine job himself."

Arthurs expression sharpened. "You've been on a team with him for almost a year now, you've seen how he is. Why would you even think he wouldn't kick you to the curb just as swiftly as the others?"

So many things in those sentences stung Ariadne, but one thing was bad enough to comment on.

"Let me get this clear. I was _not_ on a date with Eames."

Arthurs face lost a little of its edge, and he looked away.

"Good."

"If you cared so much, you should have grown a pair. Or bought some brain cells." She grumbled.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He gritted through his teeth.

"I'm sure you do."

He very nearly growled in frustration, before turning it against her.

"Well then why do you care?"

"What?"

"You keep bringing it up for me to think of, but you should be questioning it yourself. You _care_."

The Architect was quiet, the silence pure and golden for Arthur.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She replied in a small voice tinged with annoyance.

Arthur grinned smugly all the way to his apartment.

* * *

><p>Ariadne woke up fairly peacefully, until she realized that she wasn't in her own bed. She wasn't certain which aspect made her realize first, the soft silk of the sheets, the absence of the usual noise of her fridge, the level of light from the street-side window, or the scent of the sheets that she snuggled closer into, a scent of mint and tangy pine and something else, something masculine and musky, like a certain Point Man.<p>

Once she realized, she wished she wanted to recoil from the sheets. She was horrified to find that she wanted to remain entangled in them.

Ariadne pried herself from them forcefully, making her way over to the door and beyond. In her blind efforts, she succeeded in stubbing her toe on the doorframe.

"_Ow!_" She yelped, attempting to stifle the noise halfway through.

"Damn it," She whimpered, trying to feel if it was bleeding only to overbalance and thud against a wall.

Before she could disturb the still night anymore, a lamp clicked on. Arthur stood next to it, in flannel pants and a grey tee, his hair ungelled. She couldn't help but notice that he had kept it similar to the short haircut she had kept it similar to the short haircut she had given him months before. She hadn't noticed due to his slick gel styling. She came back to reality quickly, and frowned again.

"Arthur."

"Ariadne."

"Why was I in your bed?"

"I think the bigger question is: why are you out of my bed?"

Her eyes widened at his provocative statement, and she glanced down. However, it gave her a new firing line.

"No. The bigger question is: why am I wearing one of your shirts?"

Arthur swallowed, it was a question he didn't have an answer prepared for.

"Why are you holding your toe?"

Ariadne was brought back to the exaggerated pulse in her big toe, and she grimaced. "We could do this all night, but I'll answer those questions if you answer mine. I was going to get some water, and I tripped on your stupid door frame."

Arthur frowned, thinking through his own responses. "Sit down, I'll get the water for you."

Ariadne sat on the couch, only realizing her mistake a moment too late. Sheets were kicked to one end, the opposite side had a pillow, and warmth was still radiating all over it. Arthur had been sleeping there. Once again she had to battle the urge to sigh back into his sheets.

"So you didn't answer my questions." She said in an aim to distract herself as well as get answers. She heard him heave a sigh in the next room.

"Well, you were in my bed because that's the only bed here, and I wasn't going to make you sleep on the couch."

Ariadne smiled to herself till she heard him coming back, rearranging her expression before he could see.

"And the shirt?" She frowned at him.

He had the decency to look sheepish.

"That dress was far from comfortable." He placed the glass down in front of her and sat down next to her, exhausted.

"Still doesn't change the fact that you removed my clothes." She remarked dryly, sipping her water.

Arthur almost looked flustered. "If you'll noticed, I only took off your dress. Nothing else. And its not like I would take a peek."

She could tell he took a peek. Even if he'd cover it up as dislike, she could tell. But she let it go. She finished her water, before stifling a yawn and curling up ct-like on the couch. "Right. Well, you can have your bed back."

"Not a chance." He replied.

She frowned, not welcoming the idea of voluntarily curling up in his sheets that smelt deliciously of him. Particularly doing so alone.

"Well I'm staying here."

"Well I'm not sleeping in that bed while you should be resting there."

His chivalry was so frustrating.

"I'm not moving."

"Then I'll make you move."

The look in his eyes told her he wasn't kidding around, but she was foolish enough to challenge him.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Really?"

They glared at each other, and then Arthur pounced. He attempted to lift her from her position on the couch, but she anticipated his hands and caught hold of his arms, altering their smooth course. He landed awkwardly on top of her, but that didn't disrupt their wrestling arms. Despite Arthur being taller and more powerful than Ariadne, she still put up a good fight, and so a struggle began.

Arthur had the harder task of not wanting to hurt the Architect but not knowing her strength well enough to overpower her. Ariadne had the upper hand – she was ruthless and knew that no matter what, she couldn't hurt Arthur like this unless absolutely necessary. It didn't stop Arthurs stubbornness however, and so he continued to try and find ways to shift the balance, until he literally did shift himself painfully onto Ariadne's foot. She yelped, throwing him off guard and ceasing their tumble.

"Come on, my foots had enough tonight!" Ariadne winced, holding her foot.

"Sorry." Arthur was mortified, hovering, uncertain. Then he shrugged it all off, becoming the collected Point Man once more, only with more personality.

"Here," He took her foot in his hands, their touch electrifying her in an unhealthy way. She sucked hin a breath, and his touch became gentler, as if she was delicate, despite their wrestle before. His fingers carefully rubbed the heel of her foot, and she let out a sigh. Smirking, he took both of her feet and placed them in his lap, massaging one after the other.

Ariadne wanted to keep her guard up, never trusting him fully, but with a few gentle caresses of her arches, she relaxed, floating away. She knew she should have been horrified on many levels, but she really couldn't care less.

She also knew that it shouldn't have been enough to make her moan, but it did so. Arthurs hand travelled up her ankle, brushing against the back of her calf. Her breaths came quicker, and they locked eyes, drawing closer.

Ariadne jumped in first, bringing his lips against hers harshly. She wasn't aware of much after that. She felt his hands against the hem of his own shirt that she was wearing as it rode up around her thighs. She felt her own hands under the Point Man's shirt, smiling at the lean muscles present there.

She was half aware that when Arthur nibbled her ear lobe, she breathed his name like a prayer, but they both smartly ignored that. She was slightly aware of him picking her up by the thighs and moving urgently someplace else. She realized when she felt his sheets under her again, and he let go of her slightly to look at her, pupils blown wide, just as breathless and tousled as her. He licked his lips, gazing at her hungrily.

"Ariadne…" He murmured huskily, and her stomach swooped.

He cleared his throat and stepped back. "Goodnight."

He had closed rhe door behind him before she knew it. She jumped up and tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"Damn it," She said, under her breath, before knocking on the wood loudly. "Arthur? Would you kindly let me out?"

"I'll see you in the morning."

"You're a real jack ass."

"Sweet dreams to you too, Ariadne."

* * *

><p>In the morning when Arthur opened the door, Ariadne was no longer in the room. The window was left slightly open.<p>

Unbeknownst to him, she had also taken his shirt that she had slept in.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Sorry, I know, I'm so late with this. Uni's been my life, how awful!<br>Please rate and review, I've just churned all this out and it would honestly make my semester if I had any feedback._**

**_Thanks,  
>Light-and-Smoke <em>**


	10. Valencia, After Rome

It was two jobs after Rome. Arthur and Ariadne had been polite and removed to each other for the first job. Now it was the second, in beautiful Valencia, Spain, and Arthur couldn't take any more. Ariadne sashayed all over the warehouse, her lavender shampoo drifting in the air behind her, making him want to follow her. She was flirtatiously friendly with anyone but him, making him want to corner her. She bit her lip when she calculated in meetings, making him want to bite her lip for her. She perched on her desk to get a new perspective on her designs, making him want to screw her senseless.

He would always catch himself and shift back into his emotionless, professional self, but even he could tell he was failing. And it was all because she planned for this. She devised it. She wanted to see him crumble.

It was a Wednesday. Eames, as usual, was nowhere to be found after the clock ticked over into happy hour for the bars nearby. The pair were in the warehouse working. Ariadne had been struggling with the layout for the second level for two days, and she was trying her hardest not to go to Arthur for his opinion. Trying and failing.

"Arthur?" She called across to him at his desk.

He glanced up, wary.

"Review?"

She needed no other words. He walked over, hands in pockets. She couldn't help the lingering once over she gave him before she questioned about her work. He answered with as much information that he had gathered. Ariadne mulled it over.

"I don't know. I'm always fine till I get to here." She leaned over him and pointed to a well designed hairpin turn. "Then I'm lost. I can't figure out what I want there."

Arthur was done playing nice. "Stop."

She looked up at him, cautious. "What?"

"Stop. No more. You think you're the only one in this? The only one who gives a damn? What do you want from me?"

His insight left her speechless. His eyes were sincere, and she could tell from his still posture that he was wound up.

He asked again, his voice slightly fiercer. "What do you want from me?"

She slowly looked up at him with no response. He clenched his jaw in frustration and walked back towards his desk, the tension in his shoulders telling her not to mess with him.

It took her half an hour to eventually go over to him.

Ariadne came up behind Arthur where he leaned slightly over his desk, reviewing his notes and, after a beat of hesitation, molded her body against his to murmur in his ear.

"What do I want? I want nothing from you." He closed his eyes at that, and she continued. "I want you to respect me. I want you to see me. I want you to kiss me. I want you to take me. I want you to fuck me against the wall the desk, a sofa, a bed…everywhere. But I want nothing from you."

The last words were harsh, but fueled his actions more than the rest. He turned and kissed her, backing her up till she met the wall. She battled for dominance with him, taking his breath and making it hers. He gripped her thighs and lifted her, and she twined her legs around him, pressing their bodies tightly together. Her teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that reverberated through her, making her body come alive. Her hips ground against his, and he pressed into her, trapping her between the wall and his body.

The warehouse door creaked open.

"You little buggers." Eames voice rang out in the open space.

Ariadne wanted to shoot Eames in that moment, and she could have sworn Arthur felt the same for a second. Instead of reaching for a firearm, Arthur gently lowered her to the ground. Ariadne chose that minute to glare at Eames, the gaze hitting him on many levels.

He got the message. "I can see when I'm not wanted." He quipped before leaving again.

Silence.

"He's kind of right." Arthur admitted, grudgingly. "We're going about this all wrong."

"Not from my perspective."

Arthur smirked, and rubbed the back of his neck: a nervous habit often not shown to others.

"Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

Ariadne was still for a second, processing, before smiling. "We'll see."

* * *

><p>She was eight minutes late, but Arthur forgot and forgave her for that when he saw her. She had made an effort – sleek black dress, fuck-me pumps, tendrils of hair all resting on one shoulder. He felt as if he had slipped into some alternate James Bond reality. Then he came back to Earth with the help of his totem, mouth dry, attempting a cool façade.<p>

Dinner war ordered, and they had little better to do than stare heatedly at each other across the table, sipping wine that was going straight to their heads. Ariadne thought she would lose her cool when Arthur did a small sly wink at her, but instead of entertaining her fantasies, she stared him down with a raised eyebrow. Arthur swallowed. This was going to be a test.

"So, where do we begin? We've read each others files."

"You mean, you've read mine, and I read a file that didn't even include your last name, let alone any decent information about you." Ariadne frowned slightly. "And I'm guessing I can't wrestle it out of you."

"No."

"Not in any way." She mused, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.

"None." He said, regretting his words as he watched her slowly bring her finger to her lips and lick it with the tip of her tongue.

"Hmm. I'll have to figure out a strategy of some kind." She grinned at him slyly.

"So you were kicked out of your first high school." He began, wanting to catch her off guard for a change. "What for?"

Ariadne smiled sweetly, and he knew he wasn't winning. "It's the same deal as you, Arthur. You're going to have to tempt it out of me."

He smiled wickedly back at her, and her heart honest-to-god fluttered for a moment before he called a truce.

"Eye for an eye?"

"Sounds good." Ariadne nodded. "Do we get to ask?"

"Only if we can pass questions."

"Fair." She pondered for a moment, before flickering her eyes back to his. "Easy one first. Age?"

"Pass." He deadpanned, earning a laugh before he cracked a small smile. "Twenty-eight. And like I said a while back, I didn't look for your age. Care to tell me?"

She shook her head in false disapproval. "You know better than to ask a lady her age."

"Yes, but you're no lady."

She gasped, amused. "Rude, Arthur. Not gentlemanly."

"I did warn you."

Her breath caught slightly as she remembered their conversation in London.

"But now we've run off topic." He stated.

"It wasn't a bad direction to run in." She admitted, then caught his look and sighed. "Twenty-two. I'm twenty-two."

He had figured she was young. He felt as if he was corrupting her mind.

She laughed. "Don't look so horrified! Goodness, I might just leave now."

Ariadne made to rise out of her chair, and Arthur grabbed hold of her wrist. She sat down slowly as his fingers ran lightly over her sensitive inner wrist, his eyes tracing a path up her arm, across the small PASIV marks, along her shoulder and bare neck, finally reaching her face.

"Scars?"

"Interesting question." She mused, as he slowly let his fingers slip from her arm but remain right next to her hand, ever so slightly brushing her skin.

"I have a scar on my knee from when I was starting to ride without training wheels. My front wheel rolled into the gutter, and I was flung off my bike and onto the pavement." She absent-mindedly ran her fingers along her other arm. "I have one here from being caught in a barbed wire fence." She winced at the memory, her fingers tracing the small irregularly shaped scar on her upper arm, barely noticeable if one didn't know to look for it.

"How did it happen?"

She flashed a smile. "My sharing time is over. Your turn now."

He chuckled. "Numerous bullet wounds and knife scars. You'll see them later." His eyes burned her.

A thrill spread through her body from the arches of her feet at the thought. She feigned indifference, sipping her wine.

"Job or career before this one?"

His face darkened slightly, and for the first time in the evening, Ariadne felt a clench of fear that everything could become pear-shaped again.

"Never mind, we'll pass that one." She murmured, looking down at her hands, biting her lip.

Arthur exhaled. "No, you were going to find out eventually, so why not now." He paused, and she looked back up at him. He held her gaze till he began his tale, looking at the way the light hit the table through their wineglasses.

"I was discovered on the side of the road as a child. I grew up in an orphanage, then a few foster homes. I never really connected with any of them. I eventually got into boxing." He grimaced. "Technically underground fighting clubs. I worked my way though the circles, I did some extra work collecting data when I wasn't in the ring. I was never meant to find dream sharing, but a friend of mine knew this kid in college, Dominic Cobb. 'Crazy guy' he called him. 'Could go to New York and design skyscrapers, but instead he hangs around with this Professor Miles. Real dreamer.' So one night, Cobb comes in to see a few rounds, makes a bet on me, and I win. He likes my style, we get talking. Next thing I know, I'm being shown experimental work in shared dreaming."

Arthur finished, and finally raised his eyes to Ariadne's again. For the first time, he couldn't read her expression, but then a small smile crept onto her face.

"So you're a wild card. A liability."

He shrugged, a lift to the side of his mouth the only thing giving him away. "Its why I could sense trouble like you from a mile off."

She chuckled. He leaned forward, inevitably drawn to her.

"So what's your story?"

"You know it already."

He shook his head. "Not the whole dreaming and architecture part. I know it well. I want to know before that."

Ariadne pursed her lips in thought. "Well, before that…I wanted to be a ballerina. When I was three."

He raised his eyebrows and she laughed.

Their meals were served, and glasses topped off.

Ariadne looked up at him just before they began. "Teacher. I wanted to be a teacher, but my uncle suggested me to a few professors in Paris, and when I was awarded a half scholarship for an architecture course, he was so proud he said he would pay for the other half of the fees, plus everyday living expenses. I never thought I would like it so much, but something about it clicked. So I changed my plans."

"I'm grateful." He replied sincerely.

* * *

><p>He walked her home like the perfect gentleman she wished he wasn't all the time. What she really wanted was for him to pin her again. But even so, she was charmed enough to invite him over under the very thin veiled pretence of coffee.<p>

"Nice hotel." He commented in the lift. Anything to get his mind away from the fact that they were trapped in a small space, her bare arm only two inches away with eight more floors to go.

"I was lucky to get a room on such a high floor." She commented, making him wonder if she read minds. "The view of the city is stunning." Ariadne glanced over to see him looking at her from the corner of his eyes. They both took a breath and looked away, well aware of the growing attraction but far too stubborn to be the first to acknowledge it.

Ariadne shivered, and Arthur immediately reached out to smooth soothing fingers down her arm before he could stop himself. Her breath caught, and thankfully the lift arrived at her floor. She exited the lift swiftly, Arthur waiting a moment to collect himself. He was completely off guard, completely not himself, not paying attention whilst they were still working on an extraction, and he should have been more disappointed with himself for his lack of focus. But he wasn't.

"Don't be surprised at the mess." She warned him as she fiddled with the lock.

Arthur stood a respectful distance behind, trying to maintain a level of control. He had to tear his eyes away from even her very form, in her lovely black silk, just to stay centered. He looked away down the hall for a moment.

A moment was all it took for the world to collapse.

Ariadne opened the door and a man whose frame almost echoed that of the big bulky door caught her by the arm, restraining her against his torso as he wedged a gun painfully in between her ribs.

Arthur looked around, his senses prickling, immediately taking out his gun, but he was far too late.

The man, who was clearly hired and not part of whatever organisation had assigned him, snickered.

"If you follow us, she dies. If you don't drop your gun, she dies. If you even take on step towards us, she dies. Think quickly."

Ariadne watched Arthur as he lowered his Glock to the ground slowly, all the while killing the attacker with his stony gaze.

"If you harm so much as one hair on her-"

"I'll do much more than that if you follow us." The man chuckled darkly, before leading Ariadne out to the lifts, all the while never turning his back to Arthur.

Ariadne caught one last glimpse of Arthur standing blank and still as the doors closed, and she realized she was on her own. She had to fight for herself this time.

She'd never appreciated being manhandled anyway.

Ariadne dug her heel into the mans instep, elbowing the gun from his hand onto the floor. She clawed at his face, desperately trying to fight him off. He yelled, bleeding from his lip, but he was far stronger than her, and not afraid of hurting her. He threw her off, and even though she launched an impressive punch into his face, smashing his nose, he still kicked her to the ground, stemming the blood flowing from his nose and mouth with one hand.

Without hesitation, he kicked her hard in the middle. She retched, trying to keep her lovely dinner in her stomach, winded and momentarily blinded with pain. It was far too much, she hadn't been that careless as a child, she had never experienced too much pain, and he was not holding back.

The lift opened, and he dragged her past the sleepy, confused concierge, through the doors and down the dodgy street. She struggled back, still breathless, lashing out at him, aiming for anywhere that would hurt. He deflected her as he was trained, but one of her limbs caught his jaw, a crack resounding loudly in the still air. He hit her hard across the cheek, and she recoiled, shocked enough to give him time to move her into an alleyway. She scratched at him, panicking.

The sound of running feet stopped him.

Arthur appeared in the alley, wielding his gun once more. Ariadne's attacker swiftly raised his gun and shot her in her right thigh, partly to stop her escaping and partly to shock and distract her knight in shining armor.

Ariadne screamed, the pain was so intense that she couldn't breathe.

Without fault or hesitation, not a moment after the first shot was fired, Arthur raised his gun and shot the man clean through his head. He crumpled to the ground.

Ariadne was in a daze on the ground. She heard a high pitched whirring in her ears. A lower, baritone voice was muffled, and a silhouette of a man swam before her vision, but she could only focus on the thumping, searing pain in her leg before she passed out.

* * *

><p>She came to moments later, screaming.<p>

A hand clamped down over her mouth, and she very nearly bit it in retaliation before she realized it was Eames who held her still.

Arthur was extracting the bullet lodged in her leg.

"Its almost out, Ariadne, I'm so sorry, we didn't have any drugs."

She clenched her teeth so tightly she couldn't feel her jaw, trying not to scream, cry, vomit or pass out.

A faint metallic clink rang out through the room.

"There."

More anticeptic was dabbed onto the wound, making her whimper in the back of her throat, but she refused to show the men just how much it hurt.

Eames smoothed her hair a few times, apologetic. "I'll be right back with the goods, darling. Hand in there."

Ariadne was vaguely aware of him leaving her side, and a door opening and closing. She kept her eyes shut, afraid of what she might find. She heard Arthur cleaning metal things, and swallowed at the nauseous feeling creeping up her throat.

"That man was there because of me."

"Well I still fought him off. He hit like a girl." She groaned.

"And shot like a coward." Arthur commented, but under his blasé tone she could tell that he was tense. "We need to teach you how to fire a gun if you're going to continue carelessly running around with us."

"Arthur, no. Not now. I just got my first fucking bullet wound, don't turn this into an argument right now." She frowned, recalling the rest of the night, the moments leading up to her attack. "We shouldn't be arguing. If that douche bag hadn't shown up, we would be doing something very different right now."

Arthur was silent. She wondered if he was still there.

"That can't happen again. It was a bad idea to go out to dinner together with the amount of people who want our heads."

She heard the regret hidden in his voice, and it prompted her to not blow up at him for once.

"You're right, sadly. We should keep it professional. Solve our problems with our rivals."

Eames came back ten minutes later to a room filled with raw emotions left unsaid and undealt with.

"Oh, bloody hell, not again."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Happy Easter Everyone,<em>**

**_Easter eggs go out to anyone who'll kindly give me a review :)_**

**_Thanks,  
><em>****_Light-and-Smoke_**

**_ps. Its not over yet. Just because they've said no doesn't mean the attraction will die down. And they can't deny it forever. _**


	11. Intermission

The Steimley job ended perfectly. It had been the most excrutiating job since Inception, since they had pushed the boundaries by going in four levels deep, performing an extraction on the second and an inception on the fourth. They had dealt with planted security in the marks mind.

They had assembled a team of six; Eames, Ariadne, Arthur, Yusuf, Tom and a woman named Florence who was one of the few ladies in the business and possibly one of the most hard-edged. Ariadne didn't pry, and Florence was polite but private, yet the Architect discovered Flo's role as the Protector was cultivated from years of previously working as an assassin-for-hire.

The entire plan had gone off as well as it could have, and due to the many scrapes the team had got into, they all felt blessed to be alive with a six figure salary each to boot.

Naturally they all separated for safety at the end of the flight, and naturally Arthur and Ariadne wound up at the same bar on the same night and decided to take a risk and celebrate together with just one drink.

It wasn't till they both slammed down their fifth shot that Ariadne thought things might change.

"What happened with us, Arthur?" She sighed, the whisky warming her entire body pleasantly. "We put it on hold to settle everything, right? Well, a few months have passed, no one's chasing us anymore, our freedom's been bought. What's with that?"

Arthur didn't answer, and Ariadne nudged him with her shoulder.

"C'mon, Point Man, what's up? We used to have fun!"

He chuckled at her fishing, recalling the intense confrontations between them. Despite the frustrations, he missed them. He missed her.

"What happened? Am I no longer appealing?" She fluttered her eyelashes comically, biting her lip.

Despite her dramatization, Arthur found her unbearably desirable. And the alcohol had loosened his tongue.

"Its not anything to do with how appealing you always are." He admitted, sighing. "Its got everything to do with how good you are. I've got to keep you safe."

"I am more than capable of doing that for myself." She began, and he placed his fingers over her lips.

"What I meant was, I've got to keep you safe from me."

Whether it was the fire in his gaze, the alcohol, the pull he had on her, or the way his fingers lightly grazed across her open mouth, Ariadne didn't know. All she fully recalled without a hint of haze or drunkenness was her pulling him against her and molding her lips with his.

She woke the next morning sore, sated, and slightly hung over. Just looking over at Arthur sprawled in bed next to her, his body lovely and lean, tangled in the sheets, made her want to curl up and sta. Which was exactly why she carefully rolled out of bed, gathered her clothes, and left on the first plane out.

They couldn't risk it.

They shouldn't risk it.

And more importantly, she didn't want to risk him.

Things were so twisted between them, and she didn't want that to change or end.

He didn't mention a word about it on the next job, making her believe that he simply didn't remember.

That was until he had her pressed against the desk, his mouth devouring hers, hands already creeping up her thighs temptingly.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Apologies for my long break. Needless to say, I'm back.<br>The next chapter will be the last for a bit, I'm not sure if its an ending I want, but I feel comfortable leaving it there rather than leaving it at chapter 10._**

**_Thanks,  
>Light-and-Smoke<em>**


	12. Finally

Warning: M rated content (smut) ahead.

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful night. A thousand stars dotted the clear sky, only outshone by a gleaming crescent moon. The air was balmy, and crickets made calm night music.<p>

A perfect night. A night for lovers.

Which was why Ariadne was torn.

After the success of the Rome job with the seduction of their mark, the team had asked Ariadne to work her magic again and charm Jackson, their next victim. He was a different kettle of fish, as Eames had dubbed him. He was a suspected mobster, so she needed to play her game differently, not as bold, but not meek either. She had to make him advance.

She felt like she couldn't do it regardless, due to how complicated her and Arthur were. She had no idea what to think, let alone deal with feelings instead, she concentrated on the mark, laughing at his jokes, smiling, distracting both herself and him.

Finally, under the pretense of going someplace quieter to talk, Ariadne led him to a private space kitted with drinks. Jackson, already well on his way to becoming drunk, was knocked out by the drink. Ariadne sat, careful and still, till she knew he was unconscious, and shuddered, letting out a sigh of relief. She crossed her legs, remembering the glances he sent, and thanked whatever angel was watching over her that Jackson hadn't made a very sleazy move _on_ her. She was never letting Eames talk her into that slip-of-a-dress she was wearing ever again.

Arthur and Eames wordlessly slipped into the room and hooked the three of them up to the PASIV. Ariadne was the body minder this time. Within seconds, only she was awake. She sat, trying to meditate, to not fidget, fighting back her thoughts. She had seen Arthur tonight, and had sworn his jaw would finally break under clench-pressure. They weren't anything official though, so why was he so damn bothered? She shook her head, huffing out a breath. She'd never try to work out Arthur. There simply wasn't enough time in the world for that.

Ariadne was startled from her thoughts as Arthur sat up and smoothly removed the needle from his arm. She glanced at the timer. They had only been under for 3 minutes, they still had time left. Eames was sitting up too, shooting Ariadne a look that she couldn't read. She didn't get much time to either before Arthur's hand encircled her wrist and she was tugged out of the room and down the corridor.

"What the hell?" She questioned him, but he remained silent, almost dragging her through the halls till they were far away from anyone who might disturb them.

He turned to face her, his whole body rigid with anger as he forcefully kissed her, digging his fingers into her waist. She made a noise of surprise, but latched her fingers to his shoulders, her nails scraping slightly at his shirt. He didn't play around, demanding everything from her with his body, and she responded. Everything was vaguely normal till his hand found its way under her dress to her panties, giving her a shock that her body reacted to well before her brain could, her hips arching up to meet his touch. His fingers had her writhing in a matter of seconds, and before she could fully comprehend it, Arthur had her panties on the floor, his pants undone, and had lifted her, slamming into her, bringing her up hard against the wall. Her legs immediately curled around him, heels digging into his lower back to keep him close. She was too confused and too frustrated and too overwhelmed with desire to care. All she could do was take his bruising kiss, mimic his groan, and be swept away. She was transformed into a quivering, high mess against the wall, trapped by his welcome, panting weight as she tried to find her way back to earth.

And, just as suddenly as it began, she was set on the floor, tidied, and led back wordlessly to Eames and the mark. Arthur unexpectedly kissed her forehead, muttered something about checking something else, and left. All at once, Ariadne felt angry, used and left. She stormed over to sit by Eames, who looked at her, amused.

"Something wrong, pet?"

"I hate Arthur."

"I highly disagree, but what makes you say that?"

"He makes me feel used."

"What did he do this time? Spare no detail, its me you're talking to."

"To put it bluntly, Eames, he fucked me against the wall like some stripper and left. And he didn't explain why the hell he did it."

Eames looked like he wanted to laugh, but knew Ariadne would probably hurt him.

"Darling, I'll be frank. The man is crazy over you. And as if seeing you flirt with this scum isn't enough, he also had to put up with the mark flirting with his subconscious projection of you. My guess was that he wanted to prove you were his."

"He could have at least told me."

"Arthur hasn't admitted anything to anyone in years. Its why he's the best Point Man." Eames watched Ariadne stew, and tried to assure her. "He's fairly close to breaking that now. He's sweet on you for sure, duckie. Moments like just before where he kissed you, you two sneak those tender moments in an awful lot for 'just sex' buddies."

Ariadne frowned, shooting him a look. "Thanks, Eames. You've screwed up my head even more."

"Then go talk to him." Eames nodded when she glanced at him in doubt. "I'll take care of the creepster over here. You two need to bloody figure yourselves out."

"Thanks, Eames." She smiled, hugging him quickly before leaving to find Arthur.

It didn't take long. He was sitting at a table, watching the rest of the bar activity.

She marched up purposefully. "We need to talk."

He remained quiet, though she could see his jaw tighten slightly.

"What happened back there?" She asked.

No response.

"Eames told me about the dream." She waited patiently, knowing he'd respond to that.

"Did he tell you the part where I had to watch the mark stick his tongue down my girls throat?"

Ariadne tried not to focus on the mental picture. "My girl?"

"I'm the only dangerous man you should be with." He gritted, looking up to gauge her reaction.

Ariadne felt her jaw drop for a second before she cleared her throat. "Well then clearly I need to find a librarian. They're much safer."

"I was a librarian by day while I boxed for a few years. They're not safer."

A delicious image of Arthur in glasses surrounded by books popped up in her mind, and Ariadne wanted to rip his clothes off. 'By day'. He was like Clark Kent. Only with boxing. It was so unfair.

"What are you doing to me?" She growled.

He stood up to face her properly, standing close to her so no words would go astray. She made the mistake of looking up at him, and his eyes burned her.

"What are you doing to _me_, Ariadne? I need you. I need you, and my whole body is humming from being so close to you without touching your skin like I want to. I so very much want to. You know that."

"I don't know what you want." She murmured, and his ever-fierce reaction amazed her. "You have no idea how long you've tempted me." He stepped even closer to her, his fingers ghosting over her arm. "Let me make you mine for the night. Not some fierce, stubborn, tipsy thing during a job or against a wall. You're mine for the night." Her breathing hitched, and he pressed his lips against hers, yearningly, reaching towards something more than either of them had experienced.

"Say it." He murmured against her lips.

"I'm yours for the night." She whispered, shivering deliciously.

Arthur didn't give her much more time to think before claiming her mouth with his. It did uncivilized things to her body, making her have no qualms about tearing off his clothes and having him on the table of the crowded bar. But Arthur seemed to have more sense than her, and he broke off, curling his arm slowly around her waist and guiding their feet to the door.

They remained as civilized as possible in the public eye while they walked the few blocks back to her apartment. Ariadne fumbled with the lock feeling Arthurs hungry gaze on the back of her neck. Before she could even fully opened the door, she felt his fingers there too, moving her hair carefully away from the nape of her neck to brand it with his mouth. She shuddered a breath, spinning to take his lips with hers.

From there, her sense went into overload, not paying attention to anything else but the feel of his hot mouth moving with hers. She was dimly aware of the door fully opening and his beautiful body pressing against hers, leading her backwards. She vaguely recalled the front door closing behind them, and she kicked off her shoes as he lifted her and pinned her roughly against the wall. Her hands were busy working at his infuriating tie till it finally fell to the floor. He made of an excellent distraction, sucking and biting her neck till he found a spot under her jaw that took her breath away. She moaned, and it caused him to spin, this time pinning her beneath him on her kitchen counter.

"Ow," She muttered, before taking his bottom lip with her teeth and running her tongue over a sensitive nerve.

He growled, the sound shooting directly down her spine to her hips, which arched up towards his. She powered through the buttons on his shirt, needing his skin against hers. When she tugged in a poor attempt to get his shirt off his back, he chuckled, lifting himself slightly off her for a second to help her. His shirt now flung somewhere else in the room, she was finally able to fully appreciate his lean, toned body and his promised battle scars. She didn't pay as much attention to sight as she did to touch, her hands tracing across his shoulders and down his stomach, smirking as his muscles tightened at the feeling of her fingers.

"The Point Man is responsive. Who'd have thought it."

He abruptly leaned over and flicked his tongue over her breast, causing her to suck the words back into her mouth, pressing helplessly against him.

"Who's responsive now?" He smirked in return, teasing her through the fabric of her dress. She tightened her hold on him, able to feel his want for her. She murmured to him in French, her teeth grazing along his earlobe, her sentences punctured with gasps at what his hands were doing to her.

"Emmène-moi au lit, Arthur. Me ravissent. Je sais que vous le pouvez."

Her last utterance was granted as Arthur carried her from her perch on the counter to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed almost reverently. She was having none of that. She pulled him down to her, kissing him, breathing him in. She made a small noise of frustration as she struggled with his belt, and he paused.

"Why do you always wear so many goddamn layers?" Ariadne huffed.

Arthur laughed into the hollow of her throat, the sound reverberating through her body pleasantly.

"You're still wearing all of yours."

"Well then hurry up and help me out of them." She quipped, moving so they both sat upright. She let him lift off the thin dress and let it fall to the floor in a pool of silk. Ariadne pushed him gently backwards onto the bed, rolling over him once more, a wicked grin on her face. His pants quickly hit the floor.

Her hair cascaded around their faces as she bent to kiss him again, and Arthur twisted his fingers through the strands, holding her there. She gripped his triceps, pressing their bodies together, and he twisted, trapping her beneath him. His arms pinned hers, dominating before he ran his fingers down the sides of her body, leaving slight marks, painting and possessing her skin.

He entered her suddenly, making her catch her breath. He pulled away fully, and she looked up at him. His eyes were dark, but full of depth, and he was gazing intently into her eyes. It was so sweet and intense and firey, and she found herself welcomingly lost. But then he entered her again, slowly, purposefully, and she was swept back to the present in a shuddering rush. Her hips met his, and her legs tightened around him, trying to draw him even closer still. Arthur began to move slowly in a rhythm that Ariadne met and encouraged. Her fingers scratched down his back when he touched a certain point, and it spurred his movements, and all the while they looked at each other, unembarrassed by the intimacy, feeling more connected by that simple gaze than anything else.

Ariadne broke away first, shutting her eyes and twisting her head, a little mewl escaping from her throat as she neared her first high of the evening.

"Ariadne." He murmured huskily, and her eyes shot open to lock onto his.

His familiar burning gaze and the way he said her name tipped her over the edge, and she gasped a sound.

When he recognised it as his name, it drove a new feeling over him, and they fell together.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thank you for reading,<br>Please leave a review,  
>Light-and-Smoke<em>**


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